Till Tomorrow
by elenwyn
Summary: After years on the run, the lines of right and wrong have blurred just about everything. All they have is each other. Paire one-shot.


**A.N: **I wrote this on holiday whilst listening to a song by La Roux called _Armour Love_. It's my first more descriptive fic in a while, so it was nice to try that kind of writing again. : )

**Warnings/Spoilers: **No spoilers for S4, up to the end of S3 just to be safe. Incest and mild references to sex.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Heroes! And the lyrics at the beginning and the end belong to La Roux.

Enjoy!

* * *

'_You put on your armour, you put up defences._

_But why do you need to? When I'm here to protect you.'_

_---_

Years on the run had changed both of them, in some ways for the better, but worse in others.

They'd both learnt not to be so trusting of people, even those closest to them. The only ones they were open with were each other. The con, however, was that this caused Peter to be rather paranoid, and Claire sometimes felt as if he was keeping things from even her.

The idealistic boy with the dreamer's smile had long since disappeared, had started eroding away more rapidly the day the scare was etched onto his face. In this new world full of heroes, villains and superpowers, Peter was a man to be feared, but, when the day ended and they were alone together, Claire still found the same man waiting for her.

They never talked about it, their relationship, not to their friends or each other. No-one new they were related, they often shared a bed – in every sense of the word – were not afraid to be physically close to each other, and many thought they _were_ together. What they were was both less and more than that. In their tangled web of a life, Claire never saw their closeness a wrong anymore, not compared to the many other things happening in their world.

They were freedom fighters against the new regime, heading a rag-tag bunch of humans and specials into increasingly militant – and, Claire reluctantly admitted, though the thought worried her – dangerous methods that antagonised society and made their views known. If Peter had been cautious to fight before, he was taking great risks now, and Claire often wondered if he pushed the limits because he hoped his brother, her father, a special like them and the President, would come to his senses and agree with what they wanted. He crossed the line more than he should, becoming more inventive, more daring, and higher up on the list of wanted criminals.

In the evenings, they would sit together, sometimes taking but often silent. It didn't bother her; she'd found they'd lost the need for words and could simply enjoy each other's company. Claire knew Peter, despite it all, revelled in the peaceful moments when the fighting stopped.

On one of those nights, Claire could see Peter was troubled, could tell from his body language as he sat down beside her. She didn't ask what was wrong, didn't need to, the scenes on the news said it all, so she simply sat and waiting, gently sliding her hand across to clasp his.

Peter exhaled deeply, using their linked hands to pull her down onto his lap. She adjusted her body on the couch, curling her bare feet around the edge and relaxing. She felt fingers begin to run through her dark hair and smiled; Peter found it some kind of stress relief. He loved her hair, Claire remembered when it used to be blonde and curly and he would spend hours curling the strands around his fingertips before releasing them.

"I miss your hair," she heard him muter softly and turned her eyes to his face, all the while his fingers never stopping their ministrations. He was reading her mind tonight, something he didn't do often.

If he didn't have the power of regeneration, Claire would have said he looked older, tired. The strain the years were having on him were more evident in his eyes than on his scarred face, his pupils dark and clouded with worry.

"It's still here," she tried to joke. They rarely talked about the past, and she didn't quite know how to respond. Claire had tried to forget all the memories of life after the hunting started, of Nathan and her father's betrayal, the restrictions that meant she couldn't see her mother or brother, live a normal life…

"You know what I mean," was the grumpy reply. His fingers moved from her hair to her shoulders, and Claire again gripped his hand with her own, letting him talk as she traced nonsensical patterns up his arm.

"I miss how simple things were," he continued, sighing and shifting in his seat, "The exhilaration of discovering what I could do for the first time, discovering people who could do the same."

Claire found herself nodding. Though she hadn't exactly taken to her powers as positively as Peter had, she remembered the rush of joy that meeting him, someone like her, for the first time had brought. She'd been alone in the world and then, suddenly, she was connected to someone in a way she'd never thought was possible.

"When I met you, I felt like I was part of something." Claire said, half in reply and half echoing the ghost of a past self in another life.

Peter's grip on her tightened and, not for the first time, Claire let his lips find hers. It was going to be one of those nights where they needed each other to mend old wounds and ease minds, to remind each other that they would never be alone.

It wasn't right, but the days of right and wrong had long since passed. They were just two lovers in the dark, seeking solace in the other and the hope of a better day.

---

'_Just take it easy, I'll make it so easy._

_You can lay your head down, and we'll leave it till tomorrow.'_


End file.
